At last, Brand standing near me again, I said, “O Brand! cannot we go nearer the place where that ship sunk? Perhaps some poor creatures may be floating on the waters still.”
“Ma’am,” he replied, “we are sailing now as nigh as may be over the very spot where she went down; but you have no call to be frightened; everything has been done that can be done. We hove to directly we sighted her.”
“Yes,” I said; “but what good could that do?”
“Why, ma’am,” he replied, “we could not have lowered the boats without that; and then, you know, when they were off we filled, and stood in as nigh as we dared.”
“Then where are the boats?” I inquired.
“God knows, ma’am.”
“And what are these lights for? Every one you put up makes it harder to see anything. How are we to find them?”
“We have no call to find them,” he replied; “we want them to find us. Most likely there are other boats about, besides our own, boats from the ship—we want to make ourselves as conspicuous as we can. At least, I reckon that is why Master has ordered all these lights out.”
“And why cannot we pick up any of the poor creatures that may have been on board? Surely we could have heard their cries, and could now—we are not half a quarter of a mile from her.”
“No, ma’am; nothing like that distance—not half that distance; that’s why our people think she may have been deserted.”